


We're Not Finished Yet

by whataflammableheart



Series: To (Not) Be So Lonely [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biracial Blaine, Blaine has Bipolar Disorder, Canonical Character Death - Finn Hudson, Diagnosis, Elliott saves the day, Fix-It, Kurt and Blaine don't break up, Kurt and Blaine don't get married, M/M, Supportive Friendship, Therapy, healthy communcation, healthy masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataflammableheart/pseuds/whataflammableheart
Summary: It wasn’t a fight about toothpaste on a towel. Kurt knew that. It was a fight about fighting. It was a fight about months of living together and it not being easy like they wanted it to be. It was the fight of two children, essentially, trying to be grown ups in a world too big for them.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Burt Hummel & Kurt Hummel, Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert & Kurt Hummel
Series: To (Not) Be So Lonely [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008138
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is essentially me running into the sunset yelling "I love men! I love men who love men! I love queer friendship! I love healthy masculinity!" 
> 
> Basically, Elliott is an emotionally intelligent sweetheart and Kurt and Blaine actually talk to each other instead of breaking up between season 5 and season 6. And then literally nothing that happened in season 6 happens because, like, what the fuck? 
> 
> There is one more chapter coming which is essentially finished, and also a handful of other oneshots/short fics in the same AU living in various states of completion on my computer.

It wasn’t a fight about toothpaste on a towel. Kurt knew that. It was a fight about fighting. It was a fight about months of living together and it not being easy like they wanted it to be. It was the fight of two _children,_ essentially, trying to be grown ups in a world too big for them.

He watched Blaine clutching the towel still, ranting about how if they were going to share everything Kurt needed to respect him and his standards of cleanliness, and he remembered being seven, sliding his feet into his mother’s perfect satiny high heels. They didn’t fit, his toes slid down into a crunch at the tips, leaving inches of space at the heels. It didn’t matter to Kurt though. He just wanted to be close to their beauty, their grown-up elegance.

He remembered his dad walking into the room, and the way his face had crumpled. _Disappointment,_ his seven-year-old brain had supplied to describe the emotion. As in, _I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed._

“C’mon Kurt, not now. I don’t have time for this. We’re picking up your mom from the hospital today.” Kurt remembered how it hurt, how he wanted his dad to hurt too, so that he would know how it felt.

“ _She_ would let me wear them,” he’d grumbled. And it had worked. He saw it working in first the shock, then the sadness, and finally the anger, on his dad’s face.

“Well guess what? She’s not here, buddy. Put them away now, don’t make me ask you twice.”

_This isn’t working._

The thought came to him in a flash, and made everything else feel distant. Blaine’s voice was far away and Kurt didn’t care what he was saying.

_This isn’t working._

It could have made him sad, or angry. Eventually he would feel those things, he supposed. Eventually he might cry, or scream some more. But the knowledge itself felt like a shield keeping him safe from emotion. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, it was just true. They had given it a shot and it wasn’t working.

Blaine had stopped talking.

“Kurt?”

“What?”

“Are you going to answer me?” Kurt didn’t know what he had asked, but it didn’t matter. He detached himself from Blaine like sliding his foot out of the shoe, quick and easy. He could move more efficiently on his own anyway.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

“What? You can’t just– We’re in the middle of a conversation!” Blaine protested.

“We’re in the middle of an argument, and it’s exhausting. We’ll both still be here tomorrow, let’s just talk about it then.”

The relief only lasted a few moments. It was sweet though, a complete release of tension as he let his head drop on his pillow. When it was followed by guilt and worry and frustration, Kurt repeated his new mantra in his mind.

_This isn’t working._

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, he reasoned. Sometimes people just aren’t compatible. This is just what happens to high school relationships when people grow up.

Blaine’s breathing in the quiet loft was shaky, like it got when he cried. Kurt felt a flash of annoyance, because Blaine always cried, and Kurt never did, and wasn’t that an unfair advantage? Why should Kurt always be the one to soften, give in, provide comfort?

He heard Blaine settle on the futon, not bothering to pull it out (he could tell because it always made a horrible shrieking sound when it unfolded) and Kurt caught himself resolving that next time he would let him take the bed.

Then, he thought how awful it was that he was already preparing for a next time. Then, he supposed his new epiphany meant this was the end of the next times.

The thought sat cold and heavy in his belly.

But this, letting his fiancé cry alone on the couch, pretending he couldn’t hear him, was cruel enough that maybe Kurt didn’t deserve for there to be anymore next times anyway.

By the time Kurt fell asleep, Blaine’s breathing had evened out into light snores, and the streets outside the apartment had dulled to the kind of almost-quiet they only achieved between four and five in the morning.

\--

_Hey, sorry to bail on you but I’m not really feeling up to lunch today_

_Blaine and I fought again and I didn’t sleep much_

_I think it might be over_

_Dude, don’t be an idiot_

_If that’s true you shouldn’t be alone stewing about it_

_I’ll pick up food for us and meet you at NYADA_

_We don’t have to talk about it but I’m still making sure you eat_

By the time Kurt saw Elliott’s texts it was too late to stop him, and secretly he was glad. Elliott, as usual, was right. Left to his own devices Kurt probably would have skipped lunch and spent his back to back free periods glaring down his unfinished Postmodernism in Theatre essay while sipping black coffee and, yes, _stewing._

Blaine had already been gone when Kurt woke up late that morning. There was a plate of eggs covered and waiting for him on the table, complete with a note in Blaine’s messy scrawl.

_Sweetheart-  
_ _Dinner at the Thai place tonight? 7pm?_  
_I love you  
_ _-Blaine_

In a scramble to get out the door as quickly as possible Kurt had only eaten a mouthful of the eggs, and not texted Blaine back until he was crammed into the subway on his way to class, already aware that he would be at least ten minutes late.

_Thanks for breakfast, I’ll see you tonight at 7 <3 _

His Meisner class had been a disaster, his mind everywhere but with his partner. The instructor had only watched them for thirty seconds before calling for a hold.

“Focus, Kurt. Observe. What are you _seeing?_ ” she had asked.

“That’s what I’m _trying_ to–”

“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re working too hard. Stop _trying_ and just do it.”

“I don’t understand, that’s what I’m doing,” Kurt had protested, feeling tears prick his eyes, which only made him more frustrated.

“It is not. You’re _interpreting._ You’re _guessing._ Your partner is right here, all you have to do is look at her and tell her what you _see_.”

“Maybe I can’t,” Kurt had said, desperately trying not to break down. His instructor had sized him up for a moment and then sighed.

“Well stop wasting my time then, you can sit out until you figure out how to use your fucking eyes. Alicia, pair up with Tony for now.” And that was that, Kurt was sidelined for the rest of the lesson, all the other students taking turns glancing at him where he sat against the wall, every single one of them relieved not to be him.

When Kurt emerged from the building that housed most of the acting and non-studio classes into blinding sunlight he saw Elliot waiting with a brown paper bag and two coffees. For a moment the tears from earlier threatened to spill all over again, but he was grinning as he took the stairs down to the sidewalk two at a time.

“I am _not_ an idiot,” he said, when Elliott offered his coffee.

“Yes you are. A very smart idiot, but still an idiot.” Kurt rolled his eyes, still smiling a little, and started walking. Elliott fell into step easily.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kurt admitted.

“I know.” Kurt felt like he could breathe for the first time since the fight had started last night. With the first couple sips of coffee he felt the spark of the caffeine soften the faint ache behind his temples. He led Elliott to one of his favorite hideouts on campus, pulling the easy silence between them around him like a thick sweater.

They settled into matching burnt orange armchairs, complete with little fold out desks, in a sunny corner on the second floor of the music building. The only thing down this hallway were a few private practice rooms, so foot traffic was light, and the soundproofing of the rooms made the area quiet and peaceful. Elliott offered Kurt a wrapped sandwich from the paper bag, still not saying anything.

Now that they were still, Kurt thought Elliott might be expecting Kurt to break the silence, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he took his time unwrapping the sandwich, carefully unfolding every corner of the tinfoil. He could feel Elliott watching him.

“I’m not going to break down if you talk,” he said, going for breezy teasing but not quite hitting the mark.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you did.” Kurt frowned.

“Break down? That’s not really my style.” Elliott laughed. From anyone else it might have felt condescending, but from Elliott it just felt honest.

“Everyone has to sometimes, dude.”

“Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve lost someone important to me,” Kurt said delicately, separating the two triangles his sandwich was cut into, but not picking them up. A single piece of arugula dangled between them.

“Kurt.” Elliott sounded exasperated. Kurt looked up, trying for defiant. “Look, I’m not going to tell you how you should be feeling or reacting right now, but–”

“Good.”

“ _But,_ ” Elliott pressed on, “I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well in the past year and a half, and _sometimes_ I think you have a tendency to stop yourself from feeling the big things. And I think that hurts you. And I think, sometimes, it hurts the people around you.” Kurt took a breath in but didn’t quite let it out.

“What do you mean?” He was proud of how level his voice sounded.

“What did you mean when you said you think it’s over between you?”

“I’m going to end it, tonight. We keep fighting and it’s just not working anymore.” It was the first time Kurt had said it out loud, and his voice caught a little on the words, but he pushed through.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to end your engagement, your relationship of what, like three years? And you’re not even going to give Blaine a say?”

“I’m breaking up with him,” Kurt snapped. “That’s it. The other person doesn’t have to get a say.” Elliott raised his eyebrows, and something in Kurt’s mind was screaming to run now while he had the chance.

“Do you _want_ it to be over?”

“I mean–” The honest answer was no, but he had a feeling that was what Elliott wanted him to say, and in his mind it was beside the point. “If it’s going to be like this. I want the fighting to be over.”

“And do you honestly feel like you’ve done everything you can to stop the fighting without leaving?” Kurt sighed, knowing it was a fair question and resenting it.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do.” It felt good to admit to, and to know that Elliott wouldn’t judge him for it. He took a bite of the sandwich, just to do something with his hands. It hadn’t looked all that appealing as he’d been worrying his stomach into knots, but upon tasting it his body reminded him that it was the only real food he’d had today, and he was both painfully grateful and a little embarrassed to be taken care of.

“I’m sorry it’s gotten so bad, Kurt.” Elliott’s voice was low and when Kurt looked up he was looking at him with bright sincerity. Kurt shrugged and quickly looked back down at the sandwich. “What was the fight about?”

“I got toothpaste on a towel.” Kurt managed half a laugh. “But it’s never really about the thing it’s about, you know?” Elliott laughed too, not in a mean way, just to soften it all.

“What was it really about do you think?” Kurt hummed around another bite of the sandwich. When he had finished chewing he said,

“It’s like he wants me to guess? Like there’s something he needs and he won’t tell me. And we both just want to be on the same page but it feels like we never are, and the stakes are so high so it turns into all these little snits. It’s exhausting.”

“It sounds exhausting.” Kurt nodded and Elliott took a bite of his own sandwich. Kurt could see him thinking as he chewed and tried not to let that worry him. Obviously Elliott was trying to help, and everything he was saying _was_ helpful. It was just that Kurt had spent the last twelve hours resigning himself to this being the end. If there was one thing he was good at, it was mourning. Admitting he might be responsible though, that there might be a solution he hadn’t tried, that didn’t come so naturally.

“Okay,” Elliott had finished chewing. “I’m going out on a limb here but just as a thought experiment…” Kurt raised his eyebrows, waiting. There was something wry in Elliott’s tone that told Kurt that he didn’t actually think it was that far of a limb at all. “What if you told him all of this?” Kurt took a slow breath in and out, like his dad did when he was trying not to yell.

“All of…?” he asked, voice steady.

“That you don’t know what the fights are really about, that it feels like he wants you to guess, that you’re tired and feeling hopeless. That you love him,” Elliot paused, letting that bit sink in. “but you don’t know what to do.”

Kurt took a bite of his sandwich.

He chewed. He couldn’t taste it.

For the third time that day he was fighting back tears and he wanted to yell at Elliott because it wasn’t that simple, it couldn’t be that simple. And also, of course it was. He felt stupid, and small, and angry.

He swallowed his food and his throat clenched painfully around the bread.

Elliott was looking at him, waiting, patient, but he couldn’t look back.

“Kurt?”

And something in him snapped.

He was crying, sobs wrenched from his throat and tears hot on his prickly face. He brought his hands to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs, but they only came harder and faster and his fingers were sticky with his snot and he felt disgusting and torn open. And Elliott was still there, he hadn’t left, and _god_ Kurt wished he would.

“Oh. Hey.” Elliott stood and came to Kurt’s side. He sat on the arm of Kurt’s burnt orange chair and wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and pressed Kurt’s face into his belly, because that was where it reached at this angle, and Kurt let him and he _hated_ it but he let him and it felt _good._

After awhile Kurt pulled away. The sobs hadn’t stopped but they had slowed, and he focused on breathing. _In and out, in and out._

Elliott retrieved Kurt’s water bottle from his bag, offered it to him, and settled in his own seat again. Kurt was glad for the space and the soothing cool of the water. His skin was burning, he was sure he was blotchy so he rested his forehead on his palms, his elbows on his knees, gazed blurrily at the white tile floor, and breathed. _In and out, in and out._

“How are you feeling?” Elliot was still there.

“I hate you,” Kurt muttered, not looking up. Elliott laughed.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Pure loathing.”

“Got it.” Kurt could tell Elliott was smiling just from his voice. He looked up. There was a wet patch on the stomach of Elliott’s shirt and Kurt wanted to _die._ He focused on a point just past Elliott’s shoulder and sipped his water.

“I’m scared,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Yeah,” Elliott said. Kurt closed his eyes. He breathed. Then he looked at Elliott, full on.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to though.” Elliott nodded.

“Since you already hate me, can I say one more thing?” Kurt managed half a smile and shrugged.

“Do your worst.”

“You’re one of the bravest people I know.” Kurt let out something between a breath and a laugh. “Seriously. You don’t need me to tell you how much you’ve been through or how strong you’ve had to be. But with Blaine, maybe the brave thing is not to be strong, you know?” Kurt sighed. An image of a naïvely collaged word on the inside of a locker flashed through his mind. _Courage._

“Blaine’s the brave one,” he said. Elliott leaned back, crossing a black booted foot over his knee.

“Blaine’s scared too.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m terribly smart.” Kurt laughed and shook his head.

“Humble too.”

“Eh, I’ve never seen the point.” Elliott shrugged. “Enough assholes in the world to doubt me without me doing it.” Kurt smiled and took another bite of his sandwich. The crying had made him a hollow kind of hungry. Once he’d swallowed he looked back up at Elliott.

“Okay, I still hate you, but your point is made. I’ll be _vulnerable,_ or whatever.” He scoffed a little, which made Elliott laugh, and his body felt wrung out and exhausted but something bright and new was swelling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize Burt doesn't come off very positively here but I promise he's one of my favorite characters! I just think that the ways that he didn't always know quite how to respond to Kurt's femininity would still have an impact on him later in life.
> 
> Also, Meisner is an acting method based in repetition and observation of environment/scene partners so that actors get out of their own heads and are "in the moment." Idk if every college is like this but my Meisner class in college was an emotional MESS lmao.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else deeply confused by the timeline between season 5 and 6? Since this is an AU and I can do what I want I'm deciding this is set in the fall of Kurt's junior year and Blaine's sophomore year. So the Labor Day Blaine refers to is a little less than a year away. 
> 
> Also, yes, I totally lifted a couple lines of dialogue straight from the show. Except then instead of throwing away all of the work they were doing in season 5 to be better partners to each other they... talk about it? Woah woah woah wild.
> 
> Finally, I'd been going back and forth about whether another chunk of writing I've been doing would fit into this story or be its own one shot and I've decided to make it a part of this fic. So there is at least one more chapter on the horizon, maybe two! Thanks everyone for reading and your lovely responses! <3

“Hi.” Kurt’s back was to him as he walked up to their table, so Blaine put a hand on Kurt’s where they were folded in front of him to announce his presence. He was late and his shoes were soaked but he was buzzing with good news.

“Sorry, I know I’m a little late but it’s really coming down and I also had to stop by the Mercer Kitchen just to check on something and you’re never gonna guess.” As he spoke Blaine had put down his umbrella and bag, hardly taking a breath before turning fully to Kurt, a grin on his face. “So, turns out that they are totally available on Labor Day for our wedding.” Blaine was practically bouncing as he retrieved a menu from the host and sat down, waiting for Kurt’s excited squeal in response.

“Blaine.” For a split second Blaine froze, dread sweeping through him. Kurt’s voice was soft and still, seemingly unaffected by the news Blaine had been sure would save this dinner. “We should talk about last night.” Blaine didn’t let his smile falter, still hoping Kurt could be swayed.

“Um, did you not hear what I just said? They’re available for the wedding on Labor Day.” A Labor Day wedding at their dream venue, it was supposed to mean everything was forgiven. Forgotten.

“Blaine.” Kurt pressed, still not smiling.

Blaine’s throat felt tight. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even want to think about last night, even though it was all his brain had been circling around all day.

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly. “It’s fine. I was overreacting, you were right. I’m sorry.” Talking about it would make it more real, the shame of being more affected than Kurt, the guilt at having started the fight, the indignation of not being listened to. It didn’t make sense, that Kurt could make him feel so horrible. It wasn’t part of the plan.

“I mean–” Kurt swallowed. “I _want_ to talk about it.” Blaine could feel his pulse racing in his ears and his palms and his stomach. He felt sick. If they talked about it he would get angry, and when he was angry it made Kurt angry, and when Kurt was angry he got _cold_. Blaine clenched and unclenched his fists under the table.

“Okay,” Blaine smiled his best stage smile, “what do you want to talk about?” He could do this, he told himself, he could make this okay again.

“I was talking to Elliott today and I realized–” Blaine felt a flash of anger at the idea of someone else knowing that they had fought.

“You were talking to Elliott? About us?” He imagined Kurt complaining about him, venting his frustrations as Elliott nodded his absurdly handsome head, agreeing that Blaine was needy and controlling and pathetic. Kurt pressed his lips together.

“I didn’t plan on it, but it really helped. To feel like he was listening.”

“I listen to you,” Blaine countered.

“I know you– you try to. And you do. Just sometimes–” Kurt sighed. “I don’t know, Blaine. Somewhere in all of this things got really hard.” Blaine tasted bile in the back of his throat.

“What do you mean?” His fingers ached where they were fisted too tightly on his knees.

“I mean, we’re planning this wedding, but last night we had a three-hour fight because I used a towel to wipe off my mouth while there was still toothpaste on my face.” The way Kurt said it made Blaine feel small, like a child who had thrown a fit. He wanted to protest, but Kurt continued. “Living together is supposed to be a trial run and right now it feels like we’re failing. It’s so much pressure.”

“What are you saying?” Blaine felt tears welling hot in his eyes. He was helpless. He was failing. “Do you not want to marry me?”

“I love you,” Kurt’s voice was gentle and Blaine couldn’t stand it.

“Kurt, please,” he begged.

“No, don’t­–” Kurt interrupted himself. “I had this all planned out in my head but maybe that’s not–” He took a deep breath and unfolded his hands, holding the edge of the table instead. When Blaine looked back up at Kurt’s face their eyes met. “Can I tell you about what Elliott and I talked about? Is that okay?” He paused. “I’d really like to.”

Blaine closed his eyes for a second. Kurt loved him. He knew that was true because they were engaged. Because they’d fallen apart before but they always came back together. He opened his eyes and nodded. Kurt took a deep breath and at the last second looked down at the table, as if holding Blaine’s gaze was too much.

“He told me that he thinks I stop myself from feeling things sometimes. And that the brave thing with you is to not be strong,” he looked back up at Blaine, “to tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” A million terrible possibilities flooded Blaine’s mind but he kept his voice steady, grounding himself in the familiar blue of Kurt’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” Kurt’s voice was so soft it was almost hard to make out. “I’m scared. I love you so much and I feel like we’re falling apart and I don’t know what you need from me, I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know what we were fighting about. I mean, it wasn’t about the towel, right? Not really?”

“I guess not.” Blaine’s throat felt dry. He took a sip of water.

“What are you– How do you feel right now?” Kurt’s voice was careful.

“I don’t know what this means.”

“Me neither.” They looked at each other and Blaine tried to imagine life without Kurt. Last time they broke up he had fallen apart, he hadn’t been able to eat or sleep, he’d thrown himself into a million activities just to distract himself, but everything had felt hollow. He couldn’t go back to that. Panic rose in him at the idea, twisting and sharp.

“What can I start you two gentlemen off with tonight?” Blaine looked up at the waiter, disoriented. Kurt’s voice responded, smooth and polite and steady.

“I think we’ll need a little more time with the menus, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, take your time.”

“Thank you.” Kurt smiled and the waiter retreated and it felt like they were miles away from each other. Kurt had just said that they were falling apart, and then his smooth mask had snapped right back into place. Blaine was losing him, and Kurt didn’t even seem affected.

“What can I do differently?” he asked, desperate. “I don’t want to lose you.” Kurt frowned.

“You’re not going to lose me.” He reached a hand across the table as if to take Blaine’s, but Blaine’s hands were still clenched under the table.

“You said we’re falling apart.”

“I said it feels like it,” Kurt corrected. “Doesn’t it feel that way to you? I mean, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” Everything in Blaine wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t.

“I guess, yeah. But we have a choice, right? We don’t have to let that be true.”

“I want that,” Kurt said. And he looked earnest. And Blaine tried with everything in him to believe it.

“Me too.”

“I love that about you, that you live in the world as if it was the world you want it to be, even when it isn’t.” Blaine looked down at the menu, not seeing the words.

“Makes me stupid sometimes,” he said, thinking of countless embarrassing blunders.

“Yeah.” He could hear Kurt’s smile in his voice. “And brave.”

Oh. Blaine looked up again and his stomach swooped. Kurt’s smile caught him off guard sometimes, how it lit up his elegant face. And this one in particular, small and warm and just for him. Blaine was in love and Kurt wasn’t breaking up with him. They just needed to talk about last night. About what the fight had really been about.

It was easy to track, when Blaine thought about it. All of the little frustrations from the day that had made him snap. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Kurt wanted to know, he reminded himself. He unclenched his fists.

“I think,” he started and then stopped, looking for the right words. The most honest ones. “It feels sometimes like you’re in your own world, living your own life, and I’m just an accessory. I guess I just want to feel like you see me and appreciate the things I do.” A crease appeared between Kurt’s eyebrows, but he didn’t yell.

“And it doesn’t feel that way?

“Um. Not always, no.” It was hard to keep going, everything in him wanted to tell Kurt that it was fine, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But he’d tried that approach already.

“Like last night,” Blaine continued, “I made you this whole dinner and I wanted to tell you about my day because I got stuck in the rain and this guy in my Acting for the Camera class was saying all of this ignorant crap but you got home and had already eaten and it was like–” He thought back to the feeling, Kurt’s eyes just glossing over him. “Like you didn’t even notice me, even when we were talking. Like you didn’t pay attention to me until we were fighting and even then there was a time limit.

“Eventually you just turned off and it was like I wasn’t there anymore. And I was crying and I couldn’t believe that you just,” his voice cracked on fresh tears but he pushed on, “just went to bed, like everything was fine.”

“I wasn’t fine. I felt awful.” Kurt’s voice was soft.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I guess I thought it went without saying? I’m not like you. I don’t cry all the time or make big grand gestures but we know each other so well I thought– I thought you knew.” Blaine was surprised to see tears welling, unspilled, in Kurt’s eyes. “How much I love you. And how much it hurts when we fight.” Blaine reached out to cover Kurt’s hand on the table.

“I do know you, but part of knowing you is accepting that I can’t always tell what you’re feeling. You– I mean maybe Elliott’s right, maybe you don’t let yourself feel it. You get so, like, still.” Kurt turned his palm up to tighten around Blaine’s fingers.

“Blaine, I– I’m sorry.” Blaine shook his head.

“No, don’t be sorry, I love you. I love everything about you.” It was true. God, it was so true.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you. I mean that’s–” Kurt bit his lip. When he started again he was more hesitant. “We’ve never really said it but that’s what happened before, right? That’s why Eli…” he trailed off as Blaine’s stomach dropped, like it did every time he heard that name.

“That was my fault,” he said firmly. “I made that decision. It will never happen again.”

“Yeah, of course, but. We’re both in this relationship.” Kurt extracted his thumb so that he could stroke it over the back of Blaine’s hand while he thought. When he was ready to speak again he looked up, directly at Blaine. “I need you to tell me next time. If you need something, or you want to tell me about your day, or you’re hurt by something I’ve done or not done. I need you to tell me, Blaine. I’m not saying I’m not partially at fault here but you can’t make me guess anymore.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you guess.”

“I know you weren’t trying to but that’s what it felt like. Like you were trying so hard to be this perfect fiancé and make this perfect life for us, and I was just supposed to guess how you wanted me to fit into it.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, because he didn’t know what else to say. The pieces of the conversation were refusing to fit together in his mind, some disconnect making him feel distant and frustrated. He gazed at Kurt as he searched for words and Kurt gazed back, patient and present in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time. “I just want you to be happy,” he said, finally, even though it wasn’t quite the right thing to say.

“Hm.” Kurt pursed his lips, looking down at their linked hands. “Do you think maybe that’s the problem?” he asked.

“The problem?”

“That you want to make me happy and I don’t need you to _make_ me anything? I mean I know we’ve had this conversation before, but I don’t need you to be my savior anymore.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Blaine insisted, feeling frustration bubble a little more insistently within him. He pulled his hand back from Kurt’s and clenched both of his own together. “I just meant–” he paused, the words still sticky and hard to pull apart. “I don’t want to _force_ you to be anything, I just want to _be_ something that brings you happiness. I want _this,”_ he gestured between them, “to be a good thing in your life. I don’t want to be, like, an obligation. Or something that stresses you out.” He locked eyes with Kurt. “I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

Kurt pressed his lips together. He took a sip of his water. Blaine bit back impatience, and waited.

“It’s not unreasonable,” Kurt said. “I’m thinking,” he added. He let his eyes wander the restaurant, face unreadable. Blaine watched him.

In the silence between them the waiter came back and they ordered dishes they’d had before, neither of them having glanced at their menus. The clatter of the restaurant and buzz of its patrons seemed louder in Blaine’s ears when the waiter walked away.

Kurt fixed a strand of hair that had fallen down his forehead.

“You called yourself a thing,” he finally said.

“What?”

“You said you want to be something that brings me happiness. But you’re a person.”

“Okay, some _one,_ then.”

“I just mean, of course you bring me happiness. I’m in love with you. I have been so long I don’t even remember what it feels like not to be. You bring me happiness and support and confidence. You make me laugh, you turn me on–” He paused to raise a suggestive eyebrow and didn’t continue until Blaine cracked a smile. “And _of course_ sometimes you make me want to bang my head on a wall.” He was smiling so Blaine laughed. He knew all those things, he _did_ , but it helped to be reminded.

“Because you’re a person,” Kurt went on. “And the world is messy and sometimes you’re going to be angry or sad or hurt, and you’re going to need things that no one, not even me, knows to give you without you asking for it. And if we want _this_ to be a good thing, that isn’t stressful, then you have to stop worrying that _you’re_ stressful.” He leaned forward in his chair, eyes intent, and Blaine blinked back at him, frozen.

“You’re not, Blaine. You’re a person and you need things and you have flaws and I _want_ to be with you. I need you to trust that I’m choosing this. I’m choosing to be with all of the messiest parts of you right along with the flawless singing voice and the prep school boy charm and the handsome face. That’s my choice. You don’t get to make it for me. You don’t get to decide what’s too much or what will overwhelm me. If I’m overwhelmed I’ll tell you, I promise, I just need you to give me the chance to know for myself.”

Blaine’s eyes were prickling with tears again. His throat constricted as he tried to swallow Kurt’s words, searching for space within himself to hold them.

“I love you,” was all he could manage to say. His voice came out quiet, almost hoarse.

“I know that,” Kurt said gently.

“I didn’t even realize… I didn’t mean to–” Blaine floundered.

“I know.” Blaine couldn’t have said how long they looked at each other. He felt dizzy, mind flipping through memories at double time. Times when he had wished Kurt could read his mind, times when he had hoped for an apology for something he never told Kurt had bothered him, times when he had let his frustration about something else leak into mundane arguments. How often he had told himself that his concerns weren’t worth bringing up, that he was being silly, that Kurt wouldn’t listen.

“What are you thinking?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know where to start.” Kurt hummed, tilting his head.

“Start?”

“The things I hold back, I didn’t even realize… I mean I knew I did that with _other_ people but.” Blaine felt shaky, unstable. Something in his core was shifting and he pressed his face into his hands, trying to find his balance. “I don’t want to do that with you.” Kurt didn’t respond at first, and when Blaine looked up he saw that Kurt was chewing on his lip, forehead creased. He furrowed his own eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“I was thinking maybe we should go to therapy,” Kurt finally said. Something in Blaine blanched.

“Like couple’s therapy?” Blaine’s parents had been in couple’s therapy. Now they were in the middle of a messy, expensive divorce. 

“Mm not necessarily,” Kurt said. “Elliott’s been really on me about how I should see a therapist, and I’ve been dragging my feet because, you know, I’m _me_ and I’m about as ready to admit I need help as I am to be seen in public without doing my hair first.” He tossed Blaine a self-deprecating smile. “But I thought maybe if you did it too, it could be like, an investment in our futures. As individual people and as partners.” Blaine scrunched his mouth to the side.

“I’ve thought about it,” he said, which was true.

“You have?” Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well. Tina told me I should.” Tina, and Sam (probably at Tina’s urging), and his mother, and the guidance counselors at both his first high school and Dalton. Thad once too, if he remembered correctly. Blaine shrugged and Kurt smiled back.

“Good thing we have smart friends.”

“Yeah.” Blaine fiddled with the paper wrapper on his cloth napkin roll. He’d always thought therapy sounded awful. Sitting in a room with a stranger and confronting all of the parts of himself that made him feel sick and pathetic wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time. But the way Kurt had said it, _an investment in our futures._ It was a reminder that Kurt wanted to be with him, to _stay_ with him. If that was what it took… “Let’s do it,” he heard himself say. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Kurt beamed at him and it was enough to make Blaine forget exactly what he’d just agreed to.

“I’m really glad, Blaine,” he said. Blaine smiled back at him, loving how it felt. The glow of everything just being _okay._ “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too,” Blaine said. Another soft, stretching moment, and Kurt changed gears, placing a palm flat on the table between them.

“Now, you have to tell me about what happened in Acting for the Camera. Was it that Anders guy? He’s always given me shifty vibes.” Blaine laughed at Kurt’s business-like tone and took a sip of water before diving into the story, embellishing just a little here and there to pull more giggles from Kurt.

The world didn’t come crashing down around them, Kurt didn’t run, Blaine didn’t irreparably destroy anything. They were just young and in love in their favorite Thai restaurant, with rain pouring down outside. It was okay. It was _good._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well y'all I have definitely fallen off the Glee horse, and this has been sitting mostly finished in my drafts for awhile now. But here we are!
> 
> Some things to know: You could argue that this should be two chapters, but I didn't want to change perspective so I left it as one. It takes place about a year after the last one left off. Also, there are some new tags on this fic. Please take note! 
> 
> Warnings for discussion of a bipolar diagnosis and some negative self-talk from Blaine around this diagnosis. I swear he is on a path towards self-love, but he wouldn't be Blaine if he wasn't angsty about it first. Also, to be transparent, I do not have bipolar disorder. Some people who I love very dearly do, so I hope this feels like an honest and loving portrayal. (It is all from Kurt's perspective, so I promise I'm not trying to pretend I know what it feels like)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

Kurt would have loved to say that he knew something was up as soon as he walked through the loft door. That he sensed something in the air and rushed to his partner’s side, already in full supportive boyfriend mode.

The truth was, he was preoccupied when he came home from his shift at Spotlight. He had two hours (maybe two and a half if he pushed it) before he needed to be out the door again, headed to a tech rehearsal. In that time he needed to hem a skirt, re-lace a pair of boots, and hopefully eat dinner. If he could manage to shower off the cooking grease coating his skin too it would be a miracle. He was counting on having enough downtime in the audience during the rehearsal to finish his senior thesis proposal, which had technically been due last week, but by the grace of his advisor he had an extension until midnight tonight.

Costume designing for a community theater production of a modern-day _Pinocchio_ during the fall of his senior year had seemed like a great idea at the time that he took the position. Now he was learning new meanings of the phrase “it’s going to be a long day.”

“I’m home!” he called into the quiet apartment to whoever might be there to hear him. He couldn’t remember if Rachel was called for rehearsal that day, and Blaine sometimes studied at a coffee shop after his therapy appointment on Tuesdays. When no one responded, he assumed he was alone and dropped his bag on the couch, heading to his and Blaine’s “room” to hang up his coat.

“Blaine!” Kurt almost jumped out of his skin when he pulled back the privacy curtain to find Blaine lying on their bed, curled on his side. His face was distressingly blank, and he barely moved when Kurt came in, just tilted his eyes up from where they had been staring blankly at– what? The shoe rack?

“Hey Kurt,” he said, his voice flat. Kurt walked over to the edge of the bed, dropping his coat at the foot of it and frowning down at Blaine.

“What’s– are you okay?” he asked. Blaine shrugged, eyes dropping back down to nothing in particular. Kurt looked around for clues as to what was happening and his eyes landed on the bedside table. Beside their lamp was a serious looking pamphlet– dark blue with white lettering.

_Understanding Bipolar Disorder_

Oh.

Kurt picked up the pamphlet and sank onto the bed next to Blaine, putting a hand on his calf and rubbing at the seam of his tight chinos with his thumb. He felt Blaine’s eyes return to him as he opened the pamphlet and tried to read. His brain could only half-absorb the information as it raced around for explanations. Under bullet-pointed lists of the symptoms of mania and depression Kurt’s eyes landed on a final sentence.

_These mood swings can affect sleep, energy, activity, judgment, behavior, and the ability to think clearly._

“Guess I should have listened to those high school counselors, huh?” Blaine said dryly.

“What?”

“After the Sadie Hawkins dance, before I transferred to Dalton. The counselor told my mom I should see a therapist. And then Mr. Jones at Dalton said the same thing. But I didn’t– I thought everybody felt…” Blaine trailed off and Kurt looked at him, feeling entirely at a loss. What could he say?

“Oh, Blaine I– Do you want to talk about it?” Blaine shook his head.

“Not really.” His voice cracked and Kurt saw tears welling in his eyes.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Kurt dropped the pamphlet and crawled over Blaine so that he could spoon behind him, gathering him close to his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. Blaine’s breathing shook around unsteadily and Kurt just held on, pressing his lips into the wool of the sweater covering Blaine’s shoulder.

He’d never been good with crying, or other people’s disasters. He always felt so far outside of it. So afraid of saying something clumsy, or doing the wrong thing. But this was Blaine, and it was his job to be in it with him, so he just had to hope that holding on was enough.

When Kurt had suggested that they start seeing therapists last year he hadn’t really known what he was getting into. First there had been the task of finding someone to see.

Blaine’s insurance was through his parents and he’d been able to find a long list of covered therapists easily enough, but their names and bios were practically indistinguishable from each other. He’d ended up selecting Dr. Esguerra solely because she had a Filipino last name. By a stroke of luck Katherine ended up being a perfect fit– warm and patient and uncompromising, with the added bonus of being biracial, like Blaine.

Kurt had a harder time finding someone who clicked. The school insurance he paid for on top of his tuition had limited options, and it took three tries before he met someone who he could even stand talking to. It took a few more appointments before he really warmed up to Dr. Harmon, discovering that they shared a dry humor and an appreciation of sharp, to the point honesty. His honesty was slightly less appreciated, however, when it was directed so often at Kurt.

 _What do you think you miss out on when you choose to avoid negative emotions?_ he would ask. Or, _When do you think you learned that shutting people out makes you stronger?_

When Kurt’s mom died he knew that Burt saw a grief therapist for a while. He’d asked his aunt why she was watching him one day after school and she had stiffly explained that Burt was talking to someone to help him feel better. Kurt had liked the idea that there was someone out there who could just smooth Burt’s bad feelings away, make the world easier and softer. But this rose-tinted, child-appropriate explanation didn’t remotely prepare Kurt for how _hard_ it would be to face head on the habits he’d developed as shields against the world.

A year into it, however, and Kurt was starting to see the benefits. He felt a little more open to the world. A little less protective. A little better at being the partner Blaine needed. A little more aware of what he needed from Blaine. And, honestly, a lot more hopeful about the future ahead of them both.

He hadn’t seen this diagnosis coming, though. His mind was supplying images of drunk housewives and movie villains and trying to map them onto Blaine. _His_ Blaine. With his perfectly pressed clothes and hair gel and _dimples._ It was incomprehensible. And yet, it was.

So he held on.

They lay there for a while before Blaine spoke, his voice only a little ragged. “You have rehearsal tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t you say you still had sewing you needed to do?” Kurt shoved his face harder into Blaine’s shoulder, buying time. It was true, and he couldn’t pretend the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but it felt so inconsequential. It was just a play. It wasn’t even a good one– in fact, in Kurt’s opinion, it was pretty spectacularly _bad._

“I can tell them something came up and I didn’t get to it,” he decided.

“I’ll still have a _disorder_ tomorrow, Kurt,” Blaine said sharply. He spat the word disorder like it was synonymous with being broken.

“Blaine.” Kurt propped himself up on his elbow so that he could see Blaine’s face. His lips were pressed tight together while he stared straight ahead. “This doesn’t change anything for me, or for us, but obviously it’s a big deal for you.”

Blaine shrugged, scowling.

Kurt slipped back down off his elbow and pressed a kiss to the back of Blaine’s neck, inhaling a lungful of sweet, artificial smelling hair gel. The impulse was still in him, to just let Blaine pout. To get up and walk away until Blaine was ready to be _reasonable._ But he shoved it down.

“Hey,” he whispered into Blaine’s ear that wasn’t pressed into the pillow. “This is one of those times.” Kurt waited.

Blaine’s back expanded into Kurt’s chest as he took a deep breath. When he let it out Kurt felt his tensed shoulders start to relax against him. On Blaine’s next breath, Kurt breathed with him, his belly filling the negative space in the curve of Blaine’s spine.

“It’s not that it doesn’t make sense.” Blaine’s voice was softer when he spoke again. “And I guess it’s good to know, right? So I can manage it or whatever. It’s just… So many people have lives that are so much harder than mine. I was really hoping someday I could just… be normal.” Kurt hummed and nuzzled his nose against Blaine’s neck, loosening some hair from the hold of the gel.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” he said.

“So much worse has happened to _you,”_ Blaine whispered. Kurt pressed his lips together, his stomach flipping. “But you’re not– you’re so strong.”

“We’ve both been through a lot Blaine. Different things. But this isn’t about that, right? From what I know, this is just brain chemistry.” The words rang empty in Kurt’s ears, but he didn’t know what else he could possibly say.

“Yeah,” Blaine huffed out an ironic laugh. “Just another thing I can thank my shit parents for, I guess.” Kurt _hated_ this. His arms tightened around Blaine’s chest, almost against his will. Blaine was quiet for a moment and Kurt wondered what he was wrestling with.

“I’m having a really hard time not being angry right now,” he finally said.

“You can be angry.”

“I know I _can_ be. I just don’t _want_ to be,” Blaine sighed.

“Yeah, emotions are a real bitch, huh?” Blaine laughed. _Thank god._

“You can say that again.” Kurt stroked his thumb over the edge of Blaine’s wrist. He felt Blaine take another deep breath.

“What do you need right now, honey?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, almost automatically.

“Mm.” Kurt hesitated for a moment, and then propped himself up enough to press on Blaine’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. He swung his leg over and gently lowered the full weight of his chest onto Blaine’s.

“Does this help?” he asked, his face inches from Blaine’s. This was a relatively new discovery for Kurt, the calming effect weight had on Blaine. Blaine sighed, deflating under the pressure of Kurt’s body. He closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he said. Which Kurt knew was true, and was, also, sometimes, something Blaine said when he didn’t know how to say what he was actually thinking.

“I think you’re fine,” Kurt joked, hoping for another laugh. Blaine smiled.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Blaine said, opening his eyes again.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you tonight.” Blaine blinked.

“Me too.” Kurt bent his head to press a kiss to the center of Blaine’s chest.

“Can I cook you dinner before I leave?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Can I cook you food anyway and you can eat it whenever your body decides to remind you that you’re a human being who requires sustenance to survive?” That made Blaine huff out a laugh and something soared in Kurt at the sound.

“I guess if you put it that way.” Kurt pecked Blaine’s lips, smiling.

“Perfect.” Blaine opened his mouth, teetering on the edge of speech for just a second of hesitation.

“Can you stay here for a bit first?” Kurt smiled even wider, feeling a rush of affection sweeping through him. It still felt like a victory every time Blaine asked for small things like this.

“Um, of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because in that moment it was. He tucked his forehead into the curve of Blaine’s neck, letting his eyes slide shut as Blaine moved his hands to rest on the dip of Kurt’s back. They breathed slowly together, and Kurt could hear Blaine’s heartbeat under his ear. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he could fall asleep here. Something was poking at him from earlier though.

“Hey,” he said softly, not moving.

“Hm?” Blaine sounded just as sleepy as Kurt.

“You can feel what you’re feeling and I definitely want to hear about it but,” he bit his lip, noting Blaine’s muscles tensing just a little underneath him. “I’d rather you didn’t compare us like you did?” he pushed through, remembering how often they had promised each other honesty, how it was always better than holding on to discomfort. “We’re different people, I think that’s important.” Blaine’s cheek ruffled Kurt’s hair when he nodded.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t– I mean, I don’t want to do that either. My brain just goes there sometimes, you know?”

“Hm. Well, at the risk of sounding like a straight person in every horribly clichéd rom-com that I devoured as a child, I’m really glad you’re exactly who you are, Blaine Devon Anderson.” Kurt lifted his head enough to make eye contact. “I love you. And if you were any more like me I think we’d have a problem on our hands.” Blaine grinned, his nose wrinkling.

“Gross,” he whispered. Kurt stuck his tongue out and then nestled his head back down, feeling lighter. “Thanks for saying something,” Blaine added.

“Thanks for letting me in.” Blaine’s hands tightened a little on Kurt’s back.

“Yeah,” was all he said, but Kurt heard years of love and effort and learning layered in the word. They would get through this. Blaine would get through it, and Kurt would be there, because that was where he belonged.

\--

“Is it possible that I’m like Benjamin Button? Was I born an old man?” The soothing sound of Burt’s chuckle crackled through Kurt’s headphones.

“That _would_ explain all the tea parties,” he joked.

“I just feel so _young._ Like the older I get, the more clueless I feel.” Kurt stopped his grocery cart in front of the non-dairy milks, eyes skimming for the brand of almond milk that Rachel preferred.

“I think that’s normal, kiddo. There’s a whole lot of weird in this world that doesn’t make sense. When you get older you just start to notice it.” Kurt clucked impatiently, moving along to the eggs. “Something going on?”

The diagnosis hadn’t come up much in the past two weeks. Kurt had asked Blaine if he wanted to talk about it, and Blaine just shrugged. “I think it’s something I need to just work through with Katherine right now,” he said. Then he smiled, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder. “I appreciate you asking, though. I promise I’m okay.”

Kurt was doing his best to take that to heart, but. It wasn’t like Blaine keeping his thoughts to himself had ever gone well for them in the past.

“Things are just confusing with Blaine.”

“Oh?”

“I mean they’re good. Better than ever, really. It’s just.” Kurt sighed. “There’s something he’s talking to his therapist about that he doesn’t want to talk about much with me. And I _know_ that’s fine, that’s the whole point of seeing a therapist, but I just worry about there being parts of him I don’t know. Like I won’t even know the person I’m marrying. Or, no–” Kurt frowned. That wasn’t quite it. “Obviously I know him. Just, maybe not enough of him?”

“Well, hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna be getting to know each other your whole lives. That’s part of the fun of it.” Kurt sighed again. He realized he’d forgotten Blaine’s Greek yogurt and pivoted with his cart, earning a glare from a middle-aged white woman in designer athleisure.

“I don’t think I want to get married.” The woman looked away, no doubt embarrassed to have overheard, but Kurt had already moved on. It was the first time he’d said it out loud, and there was a certain release just in admitting it.

“Hm,” was all Burt said.

“Hm?”

“Well I’m not sure what to say. You’ve been engaged for a while now. I guess I’m surprised.”

“You told him it was a bad idea when he asked you, didn’t you?”

“When he was still in high school, yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I was glad that you pushed the wedding back a year. I think that was a very wise, adult decision. But after all that, and with you graduating soon, it’s a different situation now, don’t you think?” Kurt’s stomach dropped. He’d been expecting Burt to be ecstatic– that was why he’d seemed like a safe option to float the idea by.

“Well of course it’s different, but it doesn’t change the circumstances under which he asked in the first place.”

“Circumstances?”

“He was grasping at straws. He wanted to like, assure we’d never break up again, and he said all of those beautiful things and I wanted so badly to believe them that I said yes. And it’s not that he didn’t _mean_ those things, but then we didn’t get married right away and they stayed true anyway.” Burt didn’t respond, so Kurt kept going, barreling down the bread aisle as he did.

“We almost broke up again. _I_ almost broke up with him _again._ But we stayed together, and we didn’t need rings or a legally binding contract to do it, we just needed to put in the work and listen to our friends who were smarter than us and _trust_ this thing we have.”

“That’s true,” Burt said.

“I was so relieved when he suggested we push it back last year, because he was right, we weren’t ready. But I just don’t think we’re ready now either. Not while I’m still worrying about what he says to his therapist or whatever. And–” Kurt stopped his cart, realizing he had no idea where he was going or what item was next on his list. He locked eyes with the Triscuit display ahead of him and dropped his voice, which had been growing steadily louder.

“And I know there won’t be a day where I magically know I’ll never have a single doubt again, but I have to believe there will be a day when I feel ready, when we both do. And we’re not just checking a box or following the rules or– or doing it because we’re afraid of losing this.”

Burt took a moment to speak. In that moment Kurt had to shuffle out of the way to allow a young couple access to the peanut butter he was in front of. He looked down at the list crumpled in his right hand, trying to get his bearings.

“I knew I raised a kid smarter than me,” Burt said, his voice gruff. Kurt couldn’t respond to that. It wasn’t true. “I don’t think very many people could have gone through everything you’ve gone through, Kurt, and come to that conclusion.” Kurt shook his head. He needed pasta.

“After Finn I–” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “I thought about rushing into it. I looked at Rachel and I thought– I thought I would _die_ if I ever…” He swallowed.

“Kurt.” Burt’s voice was gentle, which didn’t help anything.

“But after a while I realized– what Rachel regretted wasn’t that they weren’t _married_. It was that he didn’t– She hadn’t _told_ him. You know?” The rows of pasta boxes were blurry before him and Kurt blinked hard. Burt cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think that makes sense.” Kurt selected his favorite whole-wheat fettuccine and when he spoke his voice was stubbornly solid again.

“Blaine knows I love him. I know he loves me. I’ll never let a day go by when that isn’t true. But I can’t live every second afraid that I might lose him, because someday one of us _will._ That’s how this goes. For everyone. So fear can’t be the reason we get married. That’s not– that’s not the way I want to live.”

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” Burt sounded close to tears. Kurt looked down at his grocery list again, feeling–Too much.

“I think that’s romantic as all get out, and as hard as it might be to hear, I think Blaine would be crazy not to see that.” Kurt pressed his lips together and abandoned the list, starting to walk again just for the sake of moving.

“I hope you’re right.”

\--

There was a version of reality where Kurt took “romantic as all get out” and ran with it. He could have gotten dressed up and taken Blaine to a fancy restaurant. After desert and champagne they could have walked hand in hand under the streetlights to the gay karaoke bar that Elliott introduced them to, reminiscing about the last three years in the city. It wouldn’t have been difficult to talk Blaine into singing “Perfect” with him on the small, sticky stage. Then he could have gotten down on one knee, pressed dress pants be damned, and un-proposed with such a heart-stoppingly romantic speech that they became akin to folk heroes among the regulars.

Kurt went so far as to iron the perfect silver dress shirt for the occasion, even as he imagined going down in history at Lucky’s as the guy who got broken up with on the spot after singing a P!nk cover. But the truth was, big romantic gestures were Blaine’s forte.

So when a quiet Thursday night found them eating reheated leftovers together alone in the apartment, Kurt lit a candle and turned off the overhead. Blaine quirked his eyebrows as he set two plates of vegan eggplant parmesan on the table.

“Mood lighting?” he asked. Kurt shrugged.

“I’d say that fake cheese was expensive enough to warrant it.” Blaine laughed and turned back to the kitchen counter for their water glasses, apparently accepting the explanation.

“So,” Kurt said, once they were settled at the table.

“So?”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” The acidity of the tomato sauce felt sharp in the back of his throat as his stomach turned a little.

“Oh, um.” Blaine put down his fork, adopting a pose that could have illustrated the Active Listening handbook. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“This isn’t like, an ultimatum. I mean, I want it to be a conversation.” Just to cover his bases, just to make sure that was clear.

“Okay…” Blaine drew out the word, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I just. I’ve been thinking.” Kurt looked down at the ring glinting in the candlelight on his left hand. “Why did you propose to me?” Blaine frowned.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ Because I love you.”

“Right, of course,” Kurt said quickly. “But I mean. At the time. In the moment when I hadn’t even agreed to be your boyfriend again and you went ring shopping, what was going through your mind?”

“I was… Well, a lot of things.” Blaine’s eyes fell to the table as he thought. “I was excited that things were looking up with us. And that gay marriage was legal. And I guess I was nervous, knowing you were leaving again.” He looked back up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “I was afraid nothing would be different.” Kurt nodded, holding the eye contact.

“Mm. Me too. It was such a scary thing to agree to, trying this again, trusting that anything _had_ changed.”

“Yeah, I guess I had a really hard time believing that we’d learned from our mistakes. I don’t think I’d really forgiven you, and I definitely hadn’t forgiven myself, even though I thought I had.” Kurt had never heard Blaine say those things so plainly, and while it wasn’t surprising, he felt– winded by it. All the ways they had hurt each other. The openness they now shared on the other side.

“I’m so proud of the work we’ve done to get here.” Blaine glowed at that, a smile so warm Kurt wanted to swallow it.

“Me too,” Blaine said.

“Blaine, I–” Kurt faltered. Saying it was somehow even harder than he’d thought it would be. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.” Blaine scrunched up his nose a little, almost teasing, and glanced down at Kurt’s ring.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” he said. Kurt swallowed.

“I don’t want to get married.” Now Blaine’s smile slipped. His eyebrows furrowed.

“You–” He leaned forward as though he thought he misheard. “What?” Kurt scrambled to explain.

“It’s like you just said, you asked me to marry you because you were scared. Because you didn’t believe that we’d grown and changed and learned. But we had, and we have so much more since, and we didn’t need to be married to do it.” He leaned forward too, desperate to be understood. “We just needed this. Us.”

Blaine sat back in his chair, looking confused. Hurt. Kurt’s chest ached. “I mean sure, but I still want to _marry_ you. I thought that’s what you wanted too.”

“Well, some day, of course, yes.” Kurt caught Blaine’s eyes intently. “I _do_ want to.” He paused, grasping for the words that had been rolling around his mind for weeks. “But not right now, not soon. We have so much more growing to do. I don’t want to rush.”

Blaine pushed his plate back a little. He wasn’t looking at Kurt. He folded his hands together on the table in front of him, his thumb rubbing at the same knuckle it always did when he was nervous. When he looked up, his eyes were full of open, naked hurt.

“This is because of my diagnosis, isn’t it?” Kurt’s stomach dropped.

“What?” Blaine’s face hardened.

“What is it? You think I’m unstable? Not capable of making big decisions?”

“Oh my god no, Blaine I can’t believe you would even think–” Kurt’s heart was racing, his footing lost, the idea hadn’t even _occurred_ to him.

“Well I don’t know what else to think,” Blaine interrupted. Kurt opened his mouth. Then he closed it. He heard his dad’s voice in his head.

_I think that’s romantic as all get out, and as hard as it might be to hear, I think Blaine would be crazy not to see that._

He just had to make him see.

Kurt pushed his chair back from the table and walked around to Blaine’s side. He focused on taking even steps, his heart fluttering uselessly in his throat. When he reached Blaine, he sank to one knee and took one of Blaine’s hands in both of his.

 _Alright, Hummel. You’ve got this._ It was Finn’s voice in his head, egging him on. Which– twinged. But made him feel steadier too. Stronger.

“Blaine,” he started. “I have loved you since the day I met you. You make my life better every single day and I am so _honored_ to be in yours. I promise, this isn’t about anything but that.” Blaine sighed, but he didn’t pull his hand away. His voice was vulnerable when he asked,

“What is it then?” Kurt took a deep breath.

“They want us to feel like our lives are a race against the clock, right? Our stories were already written. We’re supposed to be destined for tragedy. Everyone who’s supposed to love you fails you. Everyone who I love leaves.” Kurt swallowed, his voice getting stronger. “We’re loners, freaks, the only love in our life will actually be poorly disguised lust, and we’ll die young and alone. Inevitably, without fail, because that’s what happens to people like us.”

“Kurt–” Blaine started, but Kurt kept going.

“I believed that, you know? I can’t even tell you for how long. I don’t remember a time when I genuinely believed there was anything past 30 for me.” Blaine let out a breath.

“I didn’t know that,” he said. Kurt nodded. It was so important that Blaine _see._

“I didn’t even start picturing it before you. But now I can see it, so clearly.” He smiled, because how could he not? “Us, fabulous and old and still in love. And I _believe_ it. It took a long time to get there, but I do. And that–” He took a deep breath, slowing himself down with effort. “Our future. That’s what gets me through everything. I don’t want to let fear touch that.”

Kurt stopped, eyes intent on Blaine’s, which were wet and hard to read. He let go of Blaine’s hand and slowly eased his ring off his finger. Blaine sucked in a sharp breath as Kurt pressed the ring into his hand, holding it in his again.

“When you give this to me again I want it to be because we’re both _ready_ for a new chapter. Without any resentment or fear hanging over us, just love and trust.”

That was it. That was all Kurt could say. He waited and the silence between them stretched and itched and twisted. Blaine closed his eyes. When he opened them again he gently pulled his hand back from Kurt.

“I can’t just–” Blaine started, his voice thick. He cut himself off. “I need a minute.” Kurt could only watch as Blaine stood from the table and strode to their bedroom. He pulled the privacy curtain shut behind him and then Kurt was alone on his knee in an empty living room.

The hour before Blaine emerged was the longest of Kurt’s life. He tried to eat his dinner, but it had become tasteless and hard to swallow. He scraped most of it into the trash. He covered Blaine’s portion and put it in the fridge. He washed his plate. Then, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, he cleaned the kitchen, scrubbing every surface spotless.

When the privacy curtain slid open again Kurt was perched on the couch, feet tucked underneath him, both hands clutching a glass of water, trying to reason with the hollow pit of loss that was opening prematurely in his gut.

He looked up.

Blaine had changed into sweatpants. His hair was a little mussed. His eyes were rimmed with red. He smiled tiredly at Kurt and approached the couch.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Kurt replied. Blaine sat down, close enough that their knees were brushing, and took the water glass from Kurt, reaching over him to place it on the end table. Then he took both of Kurt’s hands in his.

“I love you,” he started. Kurt nodded.

“I love you too. So much.” Blaine’s lips twitched upward.

“I know.”

“You do?” Kurt couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course.” Kurt gave another tiny nod, waiting. Blaine let out a long sigh and leaned back in the couch, letting go of Kurt’s hands, but staying close. “Kurt, of course we won’t get married now if you don’t want to. We can wait and talk about it more and I can propose again when we’re both ready.”

“Yeah?” It was exactly what Kurt had wanted to hear, but something in Blaine’s tone told him there was more. Blaine nodded and let out a wry little laugh.

“Yeah. I’m not gonna _force_ you to marry me.” Kurt only managed half a smile.

“But?” Blaine’s lips twisted as he looked at Kurt. He took his time responding.

“But. I think we have to figure out a way to start making decisions about our relationship together.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked, hackles rising despite himself.

“I mean, you said you wanted this wasn’t an ultimatum, but you had obviously already been thinking about this for a long time and made up your mind. I just– I wish you had included me in the conversation.”

Kurt could feel a wall building inside him telling him that Blaine was _wrong,_ that he’d taken the time he needed and he had every right to make his own decision. They weren’t a unit after all, they were individuals. But he scrambled to keep it down. He took a deep breath. They weren’t a unit, but this was a decision that affected both of them.

“That makes sense,” he said carefully. “I’m sorry.” Upon saying it he found that he meant it. Blaine smiled.

“Yeah?” Kurt nodded.

“I mean, I’m not going to pretend it’ll be easy for me.” He cracked a self-deprecating smile. “But I think we can figure that out.” Blaine laughed.

“No, I don’t imagine it will. But you’re talking to the guy who bought the ring in the first place.” Kurt laughed too and it felt– easy, somehow. With every difficult conversation it felt just a little less impossible to be completely unguarded with Blaine, to slice himself open and trust that it would be all right. “Thank you,” Blaine said. “And thank you for all of those beautiful things you said. This is sacred to me too.” Kurt smiled, tilting his head forward.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

And they kissed. Sweetly. Hands cradling each other’s faces. Holding all the softest parts of each other. Not letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. This is a delicate one and it took awhile for it to feel right. I'm still not sure about it to be honest? But it's very close to my heart. In this AU I'm writing a lot of different versions of Kurt and Blaine (and, to a lesser extent, Sam) over the course of their adolescence and early adulthood (I'm really hoping that both their growth and continuity as people shows up because I've thought about it a lot), and this version of Kurt lands the closest to where I am as a person right now than any of the others I've written so far. This fic is also very much a love letter to two very specific relationships in my life which continue to challenge me and push me and shape me in astonishingly beautiful ways.
> 
> All of that is to say, it would mean a lot to me to know how it all lands with you if you are feeling leaving a comment! And, as always, thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> (Oh and P.S. I started a tumblr just for my gay fanfiction! Come hang out at couldbeinseveraldifferentplaces.tumblr.com)


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